


God Bless the Daylight

by madspace



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alternate Universe - Small Town, Bartender!Josh, Church Boy!Tyler, City Slicker!Josh, Eventual Smut, Homophobic Language, M/M, Mechanic!Tyler, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, age gap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-28 17:20:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17187146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madspace/pseuds/madspace
Summary: Josh moves to Cardington.Title from We Looked Like Giants by Death Cab for Cutie.





	God Bless the Daylight

He’d bought the rights to the building in August and opened the doors sometime in late September. The Patriot, Josh’s pride and joy, was in full swing and doing particularly well in the jerkwater town of Cardington, Ohio. Customers flocked naturally, returning faithfully after realizing how good Josh’s drink was. 

“The finest mix I’ve done ever had,” a regular of his told him as he downed his nightly whisky sour. “How do ya do it, boy?” 

Josh would shrug off the compliments because the answer was that he played fair. Josh _never_ watered down his drinks, even when his customer’s were nearly blackout drunk. Just wasn’t his speed. And allowing them to drive home under the influence was not really part of his ethics as well, so he’d always offer to take them home if they didn’t have a ride due to the lack of cabs in the hog waller of a town.

But Josh kinda liked it — _Cardington_ , because all his of life he had been a city dweller. 

As a Columbus native, his graduating class was nearly one fourth of the Morrow county population, but Josh liked the change of pace here. He had lived downtown, in one of the shadier parts mind you, during his young adult life when he’d drift from band to local band, filling in as a drummer for groups that would never leave state lines.

However, _now_ , he was nearly thirty years old and capable of understanding that music just wasn’t going to pan out for him. Did it break his heart? Not necessarily, no. Well, at least not _anymore_ , and Josh knew it was time to move on. 

So move on, he did. 

The rent of the little Podunk towns in Ohio was dirt cheap so cracking into his savings and spending the money on his bar seemed like a sure and reasonable option. Cardington was right in between Marengo, an even _smaller_ township with only one gas station and a Family Dollar, and Mt. Gilead, a town larger than Cardington but still small as sin. Luckily, Columbus was less than an hour’s drive so if Josh was feeling stir crazy, he could at least drive out into the city for a day and hang out with his immediate family— specifically his brother, Jordan.

But he was growing quite accustomed to his new residence as a citizen of Morrow county seeing as h e’d already gotten to know the majority of the townspeople who all seemed excited about the newcomer. Josh had his regulars — the barflies, the girl — er,  _cashier_ at the Marathon gas station who he was certain had a little crush on him, the workers at the pizza parlor, and the dudes at the hardware store. Hell, even the mayor had stopped by to say “hello” once he’d opened the Patriot’s creaky doors. 

Inviting utmost convenience into his life, Josh renovated the space on the second floor of his bar, turning it into a flat for himself. So yeah, Josh didn’t really have many issues adjusting; Cardington certainly wasn’t as bad as the people of Columbus made it out to be. Of course, there were confederate flags in a few lawns, and it took copious amounts of restraint to calm the liberal in him when his fellow townsfolk brought up politics, but still, it wasn’t so bad.

Josh was content with the life he was paving for himself and for the first time in maybe ever, he felt like he had a purpose. He really did.

* * *

It was about two in the afternoon on a Tuesday when Josh flipped the closed sign to open. The cash register was up and running and the chairs and barstools had been placed from their upside-down position on the tables and high-tops, to an upright position on the ground. As a final touch in his opening duties, Josh pulled a record out of a private shelving unit — Sargent Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band— and began to play it on his hi-fi. The customers surprisingly enjoyed his taste though he always got a few who requested country to which Josh would have to swiftly decline. He may be in Hicksville but country in  _his_ bar? Not a chance.

As the titular song began to roar to life through the speakers, Josh smiled. Fond memories relating to this music coursed his mind while he headed over to the main counter he did his mixing at to wipe them down once more. 

* * *

About twenty minutes into his shift, a man— a young man— covered head to toe in grease entered bar. As he made his way through the wooden high-tops and over to Josh, he examined the venue, bottom lip protruding as he nodded at the place. Josh, realizing the kid was wearing a navy auto mechanic jumpsuit, remembered that an auto repair shop sat just across the street. The guy’s embroidered name tag read, “Tyler”. 

“Hey, man, you got an I.D. on you?” Josh asked. The kid had outrageously tan skin— even through the motor oil there was no denying the deep complexion— and brown, almost black, irises. The mechanic’s hair was sticking up in a spastic discord, long on the top and short on the sides. He had round eyes— rounder than any man Josh had ever seen and a pinched nose that was almost the complete opposite of Josh’s beak-like one. The kid was skinny and long; actually— he was a bit taller than Josh though nowhere near as mature with his young face and weak jawline. Josh couldn’t help but stare at the guy’s mundanely pretty features.

“I’m not lookin’ to drink,” the boy with the brown hair explained. “Legally I’m not, ya know, ‘posed to, but I turn twenty-one in December.”

“I see. So what’re you doing in my bar?” Josh had an eyebrow raised as he looked at the scruffy kid, skeptically. There was oil smeared above his dense brows.

“Chris wanted me ter tell you that we’re doin’ a special on oil changes for the month’a October. Ya hadn’t been in yet and since yer new here, we jus’ wanted to let ya know.” The dude had an amazing bottom row of crooked teeth that Josh couldn’t help but gawk at. His teeth were kind of endearing in an odd way.

“Oh, well thanks, man,” Josh smiled. “I really appreciate that. Haven’t gotten my oil changed since April.”

The kid looked almost offended as a troubled expression formed on his face.

“Ya mean ya haven’t gotten fresh oil since— ya know yer supposed to get it changed every three _months_ , yeah?”

Josh barked out a laugh at how personal he was taking it.

“I know; I’ve just been busy.” The kid crossed his arms and shook his head, clearly not having it.

“Where’s yer keys at?” 

“Come again?” 

Tyler huffed as if he was making sense and Josh was being the unreasonable one.

“I need yer keys ‘cuz I’m gonna change yer oil.” 

The older man snorted, “You think I’m just gonna let some kid come in here and take the keys to my _car_? Fat chance.”

“What’s yer name, sir?”

Josh gave him an unimpressed look, but told him anyway.

“Well, Mr. Dun, I’m Tyler Joseph and I work across the street over at Salih’s Auto Repair. You have my word that I will git yer oil changed, no funny business.”

The bartender sighed, glancing over at the kid once more as he weighed the pros and cons of agreeing to this strange demand. There were around two-thousand people in the tiny town of Cardington so he was sure he’d be able to track down a missing Jeep if it came down to that.

“Fine, I give in," he sighed. "How long will it take you? And how much? You said something about a deal?”

“No more than an hour. And fer _you_ ,” the kid said, really emphasizing the ‘you’, “it’ll be on us. But only this once.”

Josh grabbed his keys off the wall and handed them to Tyler.

“Thanks, man, I really appreciate it.”

“Nah, don’t sweat it, Mr. Dun. And don’t be a stranger; if yer ever havin’ car troubles give us a call.” He slipped Josh a grease-stained business card and scurried out, letting the door slam behind him.

* * *

Like he promised, Tyler had Josh’s Jeep back to him within the hour.

“Sure you don’t want a drink?” the older man asked as Tyler handed him the keys. 

“I jus’ told you: I’m not old enough.” Josh rolled his eyes.

“I meant a pop, dude.”

“Oh,” Tyler said, unabashedly. “Sure, I guess. But I can’t pay ya for it.” 

“On the house, kid. For the oil, anyway.”

Tyler hopped up onto one of the bar stools, taking a seat next to an army vet. Guy was in every day from about three ‘til close. Josh felt bad for him, anyway, because the man would just drink his sorrows mumbling gibberish into his scotch. 

“How are you doin’, sir?” Tyler smiled at the drunk. The kid sure had a smile on him.

“ _Fff_ , how doing?” 

Josh shook his head as he grabbed a water glass for Tyler. 

“He’s been here awhile.” _So you won’t get any conversation out of him._ “Ah, I’ve got Coke, Sprite, uh… Rootbeer, _Fanta_ …”

“Is it orange?” 

“Yep.”

“I’ll take a Fanta, then, if you don’t mind.”

Josh sprayed the fizzy drink into the glass of ice and handed it to Tyler along with a napkin.

“Do ya have a straw?”

“Those are bad for the environment.”

Tyler’s eyes narrowed. “So yer one of _those_ , eh?” 

Josh frowned, “Excuse me?”

“Yer one of those goody-two shoes city slickers, huh.”

“Is it so wrong to care about the planet?”

Tyler thought about it for a moment, bottom lip between his teeth, and then shook his head.

“No,” he smiled, dimples clear as day in the canvases of his cheeks, “but now I look like an ass, askin’ fer a straw when I shoulda known better.”

Josh watched as the boy raised the glass to his lips and took a large gulp. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he drank the glass dry, slurping the liquid poison. 

“Want another?” the older man asked, dry mouthed, throwing his white dish rag on his shoulder.

Tyler burped and shook his head again. 

“I should head back, now. Thanks for the pop, Mr. Dun. Guess I’ll see ya around then.” And with that he was off the bar stool and out the door, Josh watching him the entire way out.

* * *

When Tyler had said, “see ya around” Josh took it dismissively because where he was from when people said things like “see you around” it meant that they probably _wouldn’t_ see you around. But no, Tyler came in nearly every evening after he got off his shift for the following couple of weeks. Josh would make him a glass of iced Fanta Orange and Tyler would ramble on about trivial things. Though it would have been annoying to most, Josh found that he actually didn’t mind the kid hanging around because, well—Tyler sort of lit up the place, entertaining Josh’s paying customers with wholesome anecdotes.

One evening, as he sipped on his soda, he asked, “So where do ya go to church, Mr. Dun?” _Shit_.

Tyler bored holes into Josh’s head as he stared at the older man and Josh felt a little warm under the gaze as he grabbed a glass for a drink he was making. Tyler had gotten off around six that evening and decided to pay Josh a visit as per usual. Josh was flattered, to say the least that the kid liked him enough to come by so often, but it was slow nights like this when it was the two of them, and maybe one other person at most, that Josh had trouble reading the room. 

“I don’t.”

“You don’t what?”

Josh set down the bourbon he was pouring to meet Tyler’s gaze. The kid’s lips and tongue were stained a vibrant shade of burnt sienna from his carbonated drink as he stared at Josh with confused eyes.

“Church,” he clarified. “I don’t go.”

“Huh?”

“ _Tyler_ ,” Josh shook his head, incredulously. “Am I speaking _pig latin_?”

“But why not?” The dude seemed genuinely perplexed to Josh’s utter bewilderment.  

The bartender picked up the drink he’d just poured and brought it over to the tired woman who’d ordered it.

“But why don’t you?” Tyler asked again when Josh returned.

He sighed, “Don’t you think you’re being a little intrusive?”

“Bring out the big words to confuse me, huh.”

“‘ _Nosy_ ’. You’re being nosy, kid.”

Tyler scrunched his mouth to the side and rested his chin on his folded arms.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean no disrespect.” The sat in silence for a moment before Josh capped the bourbon.

“I grew up Catholic,” he admitted.

“… Catholic?” Tyler asked, eyeing his arm tattoos. “You don’t seem very Catholic to me.”

Josh snorted. “I said I grew up Catholic.”

“Meanin’ yer not anymore?” The bartender shrugged.

“Well,” Tyler began. _Please don’t say it, please don’t say it._ “Why don’t ya come to Protestant church with me and my family this Sunday? We’d love ter have ya.”

Josh closed his eyes and inhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Look, Tyler, I don’t think that’s the best idea.” 

“Why not?” Tyler asked all furrowed brows and hurt eyes.  “Are ya nervous about the piercings? Or the tattoos? Because ya don’t have to be _._   _Plenty_ ‘a girls have dyed hair these days—”

“Tyler,” Josh snapped. “I’m bisexual.”

The kid’s eyes widened and his mouth morphed into a little “o” shape.

Josh turned to put the liquor away and planted his hands on the back counter. He wasn’t sure what he’d face if he turned back around.

“Well, you should still come.” Josh’s heart began to beat a little bit faster as Tyler’s words echoed in his head.

“Wh-what—?” he gasped, spinning around, blood pumping loudly in his ears.

Tyler’s cheeks were tinted pink, but his gaze remained firmly fixed— dark brown eyes locked with Josh’s lighter ones.

“Yer preference ain’t got nothin’ to do with the church. Only you and God. And… anyone who has somethin’ ter say about it can take it up with me.”

Both men said nothing as they stared at each other, though Tyler’s cheeks were growing more and more rouge with every passing second.

“So will you go with me?” he asked once more. “Ter Sunday service?” 

Perspiration formed on Josh’s brow mirroring the motor oil on Tyler’s. _Fuck._

* * *

He pulled up to the church a little before nine that Sunday in his best button down shirt and slacks. Josh’s hair was dyed an electric yellow and a silver nose ring remained lodged in his left nostril; Tyler had said it would be fine so the bartender took his word for it.

“Josh!” Tyler hollered from across the parking lot. The kid broke out into an easy jog as he made his way on over to Josh.

“I just _knew_ you’d come.”

Josh forced a smile, still pretty on the fence about spending his Sunday morning worshipping, though the disdain was fleeting once he got a good look at the guy in front of him. Tyler could clean up nice, Josh thought. Well— sort of. The brunette, who was always covered in motor oil, was fresh faced today and clean shaven, too, his childish scruff a distant memory. He wore a button down shirt and tired blue jeans. Tyler’s Converse were ratty, with small holes peppered throughout the canvasey fabric. But aside from that, the only thing that gave the mechanic away was the grease embedded into his nail beds; it was like they were stained black, never to be completely ridden of oil. 

Tyler’s hair was fluffier than usual, no sweat plastered locks, with the tufts sticking up in a spastic manner. He was breaking out a bit around his mouth and cheek area, cadmium blemishes swollen, while his lips appeared bitten and raw and in major need of Vaseline.

Josh snorted, though, taking another glance over him; the kid looked sorta cute, he supposed.

“Morning, Tyler.”

Behind him, in the church parking lot was a woman with blonde hair, presumably his mother since Tyler was a spitting image of her, his father, a high-schooler that looked almost identical to Tyler, a young girl and a small boy. They, too, were dressed in beat clothes, but Josh didn’t mind. 

“This is my family. Mom, dad— oh, you can call them Mr. and Mrs. Joseph, my brothers, Zack and Jay, and then my sister, Maddy. Guys, this is Mr. Dun! He just moved up to Cardington back in September.”

“Please, call me Josh.” It was weird enough that Tyler refused to do it and Josh really didn’t want anymore people jumping on the “Mr. Dun” bandwagon.

The kid’s family was nice enough, with really only Zack giving off a strange atmosphere.

“So,” the mom asked, smiling politely at Josh, “what church do you attend?” 

“Yeah, son,” the father interjected, smiling wide. “Any place we might know of?”

“Josh grew up Catholic.” His family turned to look at Tyler and seemed to get the idea, dropping the topic, immediately.

“Let’s head in,” his mother smiled, amicably, though it seemed a bit forced.

* * *

The sermon wasn’t as bad as he expected it to be. The church was outrageously small, only housing fifty or so members. It was so small that there weren’t even actual pews, just some singular chairs and a podium for the pastor in the front of the stuffy room.

“So how was it?” Tyler asked, leading Josh over to the table that held value bagels and water from the tap. 

“Enlightening,” Josh told him, somewhat truthfully. Tyler’s eyes lit up at the answer and he smiled, jovially.

“That’s— well that’s _amazin_ ’, Mr. Dun. I— I’m glad to hear it.”

“Boys,” Tyler’s mom called out, “Gran’s cookin’ a big breakfast if yer wantin’ to join us.”

Tyler looked to Josh with pleading eyes. 

“Only if it’s no trouble,” the bartender answered.

Tyler’s grin was wide, “Gran makes a mean biscuit and gravy! Yer in fer a real treat.”

Josh nodded and followed the Josephs out to the parking lot. 

“Guess I’ll follow you there?” the bartender asked, breaking away to walk towards his Jeep.

“We live over in Marengo, so why don’t ya go with him, Ty? Case he gets lost?” his father offered, placing his hand on his son’s shoulder.

“Only if it’s alright with him?” Tyler shot Josh hopeful eyes.

“Yeah,” the bartender nodded. “It’d probably be better that way.”

Tyler bid his family farewell and climbed into Josh’s Jeep.

“You smoke?” the kid asked, rolling down his window. The November air was a bit nippy, but not too bad. 

“Is that a problem?”

“No, sir, not at all. I just never seen you take a cigarette break.”

“I’m not that much older than you, kid. You can call me ‘Josh’.”

Tyler looked to him, elated.

“Really? I didn’t wanna be rude and ask.”

Josh snorted; the kids down in Columbus didn’t have a single shred of self-awareness. 

“We’re friends, so you don’t have to worry about pleasantries.”

“Good to know,” Tyler grinned, staring out of his side window with a toothy smile plastered onto his face as he tapped his fingers on his knees.

* * *

Well, he was certainly right about one thing— his grandmother’s biscuits and gravy were to die for. Josh had three helpings, to Tyler’s gran’s delight.

“Ty, why don’t you take Josh up to your room and show him yer drawin’s.”

“Ma,” the mechanic flushed. “Josh don’t wanna see that!”

“Sure I do,” Josh simpered. Messing with the little pest was fun.

“You heard the guy,” Zack whistled. “Show him yer gay-ass pictures—”

“Zachary Joseph, you watch your mouth!” his mother scolded, her tone lethal. Zack ran a tongue across his bottom lip and rolled his eyes. 

Tyler stared at the ground and something compelled Josh to put a strong hand on the back of his neck.

“Come on, dude. Show me your room.”

They walked up the rickety stairs in silence. It was hard for Josh to believe that seven people lived in this tiny house. It wasn’t well kept at all, especially on the outside, and Josh felt a little somber when he thought about Tyler growing up in such a clustered and filthy environment. Tyler, never getting a room to himself and having to share it with two other people while Josh could barely stand to share his room with his younger brother, Jordan, when his childhood home’s basement was being remodeled. And that was only for a few weeks, he couldn’t imagine an entire lifetime of it.

Once they were in Tyler’s room with the door shut, the younger man began to apologize, profusely.

“Josh, I’m so sorry about him. Ya— he ain’t a reflection of what I believe— how I hold myself, even. And I— I’m absolutely mortified.”

Josh shook his head. “Don’t worry about it, dude. Seriously.”

Tyler sighed and plopped down on his twin-sized bed.

“He don’t mean no harm— he’s just ill in the head. I pray everyday for the Lord to soften his heart but He just don’t listen.” 

“Kid…” Tyler laid back on his bed and through his forearm over his eyes. 

“I just want him to be kind. _He_ _knows_ _I_ …”

“Hey,” Josh murmured, taking a seat next to him. “I’m sure he’ll come around. Kid’s still in high school, right?”

“He is. B— but I don’t like what he’s learnin’ from them kids at that public school.”

Josh knit his brows. “What do you mean? Didn’t you go to the same school?”

Tyler went rigid next to him and took a shaky breath.

“Well I… um…”

Josh waited, patiently.

“I… don’t got my diploma.” Josh’s eyes widened and his jaw fell slack. “B-but Zacky and Maddy and Jay are all attending the schools over in Cardington.” 

“What?”

“You can’t tell no one,” Tyler pleaded, sitting up. “You have ter promise not ter tell no one.” His eyelashes were sticking together from the tears and the rims of his eyes were bloodshot.

“I had ter help my ma and gran, so I had ter do the homeschoolin’ and such. But I ain’t ever finish— cuz’ I had to help Ma and _Pa_ and Gran.”

The gravity of Tyler’s confession felt like pins and needles on Josh’s spine and he was going to be sick.

“I have to ask you, and I need you to tell me the truth.”

The mechanic sniffled, “Lyin’s a sin.” Josh inhaled, puffing out his cheeks.

“Are you happy here?” Tyler’s lip quivered, and Josh clenched his fists. “Kid, that’s not okay. You need to— you gotta get your GED. I mean, the opportunities will only double for you.”

“And how am I supposed ter do that? I got— I got a family ter support and a job at the shop and— and I don’t know things that other people know!” The floodgates had started and once they started, they didn’t appear to be stopping. 

Josh wrapped his arms around the lean boy, embracing him tightly from the side as he shook with sorrow.

“You’re okay, Tyler, you’re okay. Please don’t cry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t upset me,” Tyler sobbed into Josh’s shoulder. “I’m just so _mad_. I— I can’t read real well, and I can’t articulate the way I want. Josh, I got ideas up in my head a—and I can’t _tell_ nobody.” He was hyperventilating by this point, struggling for air as he clung to Josh for some sense of grounding. “I feel like such a write-off.”

Josh’s heart ached for the guy and he tightened his grip on him.

“Tyler, you’re not— you’re not a _write-off_. You are just as much deserving of an education as anybody else and your ideas are wonderful and so worth shouting about. You come into my bar everyday and you really treat those folks, you know?” Tyler sniffled as the hyperventilating turned to harsh, irregular hiccups.

“Tyler, you are so much more than you can see, but I need you to be strong and get the help you need. I mean, you can’t stay like this, you owe it to yourself to live. And I—I know people who can get you resources.”

Tyler whimpered into Josh’s neck, damping his collar with snot and tears. 

“Seems so impossible.”

“Tyler,” Josh mumbled, stroking his hair. “It’s not easy, but it’s not impossible.”

The conversation fizzled out, with Josh trying to mentally come up with solutions as to where to begin. He’d have to give his mom a ring— she was pretty good with stuff like this being a nurse and all. Yeah, she’d definitely know what to do.

After pulling himself together, Tyler showed Josh some of his drawings, as promised, and the latter was surprised to find that they actually weren’t half bad. With some training of the eye, Tyler had the potential to become a fine, fine artist. Josh told him so.

“Yer lyin’,” Tyler chuckled, his cheeks still streaked from the copious amounts of crying he had done.

“Lying is a sin,” Josh told him.

He left shortly after, finding it hard to smile a goodbye to Tyler’s parents. They were just wrong— so _wrong_ — in their raising of their eldest son and Josh couldn’t understand their decision to pull him out of school. He’d have to talk to his own mom, that’s for damn sure. Thanksgiving was in a week, it’d be the perfect time to get her face-to-face.

* * *

December first was Tyler’s birthday and the two decided to celebrate his first legal drink. The kid (man?) had spent the day with his family and then came over to the Patriot around the time Josh was closing for the evening.

“Here’s to twenty-one,” Josh grinned, raising his beer out. Tyler, following in his lead, repeated after him:

“To twenty-one.” 

* * *

“I know how to jump a car, but that’s about it,” Josh admitted, his cheeks rosy. He usually refrained from partaking in alcohol consumption, but tonight was the night his best friend had been born— it was a reasonable cause for celebration.

“Not bad,” Tyler smiled, taking another swig of his beer. “Though I’m surprised you even know what a jumper cable is.”

Josh scoffed. “Now that’s just mean, Joseph.”

“Alls I’m saying is, a man should know his way around his car.” The bartender rolled his eyes. “And women, too,” Tyler continued, catching his little slip. Being around Josh was shaping him into a somewhat more liberal person but the kid wasn’t going to become well-rounded overnight. And Josh knew that, his patience was becoming.

“So did you get what you wanted for your birthday?” 

Tyler smiled. “Gran made me a chocolate cake. I didn't even think to bring ya a piece.” 

“That’s really kind of her.”

“That’s my gran for ya,” Tyler hiccuped. “Kind as a honeybee.”

“Oh, I forgot to tell you: I’ve been talking to my mom and she found an excellent tutor to help you prep for your GED test.”

“Josh, I appreciate the help, but ya know I can’t afford no tutor.”

The older man shook his head. 

“My sister Ashley writes poetry and fiction; she offered to help you out.”

Tyler sat up a little straighter on his barstool.

“Josh,” he said again. “I can’t just take yer sister’s time up like that. It wouldn’t be right.”

“You gonna let me finish, kid? She’s willing to help you study so long as you agree to work on her car.”

“What’s wrong with her car?”

“Everything under the sun,” he laughed. “If you think I’m bad at keeping up with car maintenance, you should see Ashley. I don’t think she’s ever gotten an oil change.”

Tyler shook his head as he cracked his knuckles. “Must run in yer blood.”

“Like I said, it’s up to you, but the offer stands,” Josh told him, not wanting to come off as pushy.

He had this thoughtful look on his face as he uttered an, “I’ll think on it." 

The conversation continued on to other things but the inevitable haziness of the drinks soon began to kick in. 

“I should probably get home,” Tyler decided, patting his jeans. He let out a big yawn, showing off those mangled teeth once more. Josh flushed crimson in the dim lighting of the bar.

"Ah, ah. Unless your parents are picking you up, you aren’t going anywhere tonight, bud. One disadvantage to drinking is that you’re completely dependent on the sober.”

“Shoot," Tyler groaned, throwing his head back. “I didn’t even _think_ about arrangin’ a ride.”

Josh scratched his stubble and nodded to his landline which hung right next to the drink cabinet. 

“Why don’t you give ‘em a call— your parents and tell them you’re just gonna crash at my place tonight.”

“Are ya sure? I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

Josh shook his head. “Seriously, you’re good dude.”

* * *

After Tyler let his parents know he was gonna stay the night at Josh’s, they headed upstairs.

“Isn’t it weird that I ain’t never seen yer place before?” 

Josh’s flat was well-decorated— contemporary. It was sort of a homage to Columbus in that way but nearly everything was recycled from neat little secondhand stores in the Short North. Josh was proud of his home, to say the least; it really reflected him.

“Kinda strange, ain’t it?” Tyler wondered aloud as he explored the living room and the decor that resided in it. 

“Gee, thanks.” 

He shot the older guy a look. “Ya know what I meant. I ain’t ever seen a place that looks like this ‘cept fer in the movies.”

Josh shook his head. 

“Holy cow, you got one of these up here, too? Been seen yer hi-fi downstairs but this one looks kinda old-timey.” 

“Want me to play some music?” Josh opened up a cabinet next to the retro gramophone revealing an outrageously large record collection. “What do you want to listen to?” Tyler’s eyebrows shot up, in that innocent way, as his eyes landed on the records. 

“How in the world could you afford all of these?” There were hundreds, from what Tyler could tell.

“I’ve been working awhile.”

“No kidding,” the mechanic snorted. “How old are ya anyway?”

“Turn thirty in June.”

Tyler sucked in his cheeks and pursed his lips. “Kinda a geezer, aren’t ya?”

An incredulous look formed on Josh’s face as he turned to look at Tyler. 

“You’re a _dick_ , you know that, right?” The younger giggled as he brushed past Josh to thumb through the records. It would take him hours to go through the whole thing so he picked one with a cool cover.

“Hm. How about this one?” 

“Good choice. They’re one of my favorite groups.”

The boys ended up on the floor in the living room that night, talking about everything and nothing while enjoying Josh’s music. He ended up telling Tyler about his time spent touring ( _“I didn’t even know ya played music!”_ ) and about his life in Columbus. He also recounted how he and his last girlfriend broke it off once he decided he wanted to get out of the city.

“S’a shame she didn’t come with you,” Tyler said, though he didn’t sound very glum about it. 

“Well, I’d never ask her to. Debby— well, she would of _hated_ it up here.”

“Why?” Tyler asked, naively, turning onto his side. The brunette propped his head up with his fist as he looked to Josh for the answer.

“She’s a city girl,” he smiled fondly. “Hated nature, always needed something to do or somewhere to go which— which is not a bad thing,” Josh clarified. “I was like that for a majority of my life as well. I just think... I just think I needed a change of pace for a bit, you know?”

“I see,” Tyler agreed. “So ya think you’ll ever go back?”

Josh shrugged. “I dunno.  really like running the Patriot and I— I mean you’re up here so it’s not like I’m dying to head back any time soon.”

Tyler smiled at the mention of his name— the smile where he didn’t show any teeth but his dimples made up for it. Did the kid always have those long of eyelashes? Josh wasn’t quite sure, but they were awfully close, lying there on the carpet.

“Josh?”

“Hm?”

“Is it much different?" A pause. "Bein’ with a man, I mean.”

The silence following was grating on the ears. Josh glanced over at him, nervously. He was pretty sure even talking about this was taboo and something Tyler would definitely never bring up on his own accord. It was needless to say he was a bit surprised by the sudden interest.

“I mean…” he began, trying to find words, “… not _really_. It’s a little bit more gruff, I suppose. And you get a few razor burns here and there but it’s totally worth it. I— er, have a preference for guys so I'm a little..." gulp, "biased.”

Josh kinda found himself oversharing with that last bit but he hadn’t gotten to claim his sexuality since he moved up here. Forgive him for indulging. 

“I just…” Tyler mumbled, scrunching his lips. Josh wanted to die. 

“Just, like— Don’t it _hurt_ , puttin’ it in yer _rear_ and all?” Oh. Oh.

“Um…?”

“Is that inappropriate?” Tyler asked, worry-eyed. “I don’t mean to be a pervert.” Josh shook his head, slowly.

“I just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all. I mean…” he paused, searching for the right articulation, “it’s not so bad after the first couple of times. Just gotta... make sure you do it properly.” Tiny Vessels began to sound off from the gramophone as they laid there, staring at each other. Josh examined Tyler’s face, taking in every pore, every blemish. He watched the way his lips parted as he exhaled and the way his eyelashes fluttered with every blink.

“The lyrics— they’re so _sad_ ,” Tyler commented after awhile as he subconsciously (consciously?) scooted closer to Josh. Josh had looped Transatlanticism so many times through the years he was completely desensitized— somewhat able to remove himself from the words.

“They are, aren’t they?” Josh mused, eyes glued to the rosy blush on the younger man’s face. 

Tyler’s head was on Josh’s chest at this point, his eyes closed as he really listened to the music. As the beat within the track changed, Josh still stared, eyes tracing over all his features once again. And when Tyler’s eyes flitted open and he saw Josh gazing at him, he smiled, vaguely like Mona Lisa, herself. Their lips ghosted the other’s, warm air dancing between them. Tyler’s breath smelled like beer and peppermint and Josh was drawn to it like a moth to the flame.

Then Tyler’s lips were on his, puckered like a novice. Josh kissed him back, craning his neck downwards to reach Tyler, but nothing could save this kiss and Josh couldn’t help but snort.

Tyler pulled back with furrowed brows.

“Did I do somethin’ wrong?”

“No,” Josh chuckled.

“Yer laughin’ at me!” Tyler smiled. It was no secret at this point that Josh’s laugh was contagious.

“You may be able to fix a transmission, but you are a lousy kisser, Tyler Joseph.” The aforementioned flushed a startling shade of English vermillion before Josh, uttered, “Get back over here and let me teach you how to kiss like you mean it.”

Tyler bobbed his head up and puckered again.

“Ah-ah,” Josh told him, shaking his head. “Part your lips. I’ll lead.” The bartender leaned forward, hovering Tyler’s parted lips, and brought a warm hand up to caress Tyler’s scruffy jaw. Softly, he pressed his lips to Tyler’s allowing them to mold naturally against each other. It had been years since Josh had been kissed like this— innocent, unknowing— with no ulterior motives or vices and the man was relishing it.

The kissed ‘til their lips were red, chaste kisses— genuine kisses. No tongue, no biting, nothing even remotely forced. Just lazy kissing, ‘til the sun came up and daylight was breaking.

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr is @leave-the-city


End file.
